Artistic
by Caeyle
Summary: James is strangely drawn to Remus- but he doesn’t realise the depth of his want. That is, until now. JamesRemus


Title: Artistic

Author: Caeyle

Rating: PG-13

Fandom: Harry Potter

Category: romance, sort of Pairing: James/Remus, James/Lily

Summary: James is strangely drawn to Remus- but he doesn't realise the depth of his want. That is, until now. James/Remus

Warnings: SLASH, and cutting

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters involved, and I'm not making any money off this.

James watched Remus cross the room, his lithe, powerful body moving sensuously, howsoever unintentionally, within his robes. Then Remus came back, with the quill he had gone to retrieve. James had not, though, expected Remus to stop next to him—if only for a moment. Remus' tousled hair falling into dreamy golden eyes as he gave James a knowing smile. Just a moment—before he want on to sit by Sirius, who was no so diligently working on homework. Just a moment—and James tensed. He knew. Remus knew how James watched him, so closely. Knew he was in lust if not love with him. Damn that werewolf sense of smell.

James desperately tried to think of something else. Anything, just anything to get his mind off Remus. He wasn't in love with Remus, was he? Of course he was beautiful—something he realised when Lily, Lily with her artist's eye, had pointed it out. James just liked watching him, that was all. It was almost a habit now. He didn't want to run his hands through the silky honey-hued hair, didn't want to touch and memorise every scar on his body, didn't want to kiss perfect, sculpted, tempting lips, didn't—Oh, shit.

He was not in love with Remus. If he were to be in love with anyone, it would be Lily. Beautiful, sensitive, artistic, perfect Lily. Not Remus. Not in a million years. Of course, Remus was rather artistic too, as he found out…

He was planning on a quick shower, then bed. What he was not planning on was finding Remus. He didn't mean to look, really—but the curtain was partially open, and he couldn't help it. So he looked, just the casual type of glance in which an observer takes in his surroundings. He looked—and froze. Watching as the knife carved a pattern into Remus' arm. Watching as blood welled up and mingled with the water. Watching a swirling pink mixture of blood and water washing down the drain. Remus held the knife. Remus was doing this to himself.

"Remus! What are you doing?" James stepped into the shower, approaching Remus with the angry worry of a friend. He didn't know what he was going to do. Maybe take the knife away and never give it back. Maybe strangle Remus for hurting himself—but that would be kind of defeating the purpose of keeping Remus safe and alive. What could he do?

Remus grabbed James' wrist, a hard, bruising grip, but his voice was strangely calm. His eyes were strangely calm. "Don't tell."

"But—you need help! It's not right, you're not supposed to do this to yourself…" James realised he was sounding strangely like Sirius, babbling almost incoherently… but he didn't care. How could he do this to himself? He could he hurt himself like this?

"No. I don't need help. I'm fine." If Remus had been anyone else, he would be threatening James not to tell—but this was Remus, and his voice was pleading. "Don't tell, please?"

James wanted to yell at him, wanted to drag him off the Madame Pomfrey, to drag him off to Dumbledore… but he couldn't resist those eyes. Sirius used the puppy-dog look more, but Remus' was just as effective. So instead, he nodded, against better judgement. Remus slowly released his almost death-grip on his wrist, but didn't let go completely. James had forgotten how strong Remus was—his wrist had to be bruised, from the feel of it. But he forgot about it, as his eyes were drawn to Remus' arm. The cuts were patterns, James realised—squiggles and spirals. Raised pictures swelled with the loss of blood. Strangely aesthetic, in a way. Remus looked too, for a moment, then looked to James. Their eyes met, James looking at Remus, questioning. Then James' brain kicked in as concern and worry for his friend faded. He shouldn't be here. Remus, naked, and he naked except for the now soaking wet towel wrapped loosely about his waist. But he couldn't force himself to leave.

Remus took James' hand in both of his, cradling and stroking it gently. "Do you trust me?" Remus' voice, husky and beautiful.

James nodded silently, his breath catching in his throat. Remus brought the knife to James' skin. Cutting oh so lightly on his forearm. Just enough to break the skin, to draw blood. It barely hurt. James was enthralled. Remus was marking him, marking him with a little circle. Circle… full moon…

Then it started to sting more, but Remus bent his head to lick the cut—his tongue delicately flicking against the skin, tasting James' blood and soothing the newly cut skin. It was the most erotic touch James had ever experienced. He stopped trying to think straight, and just enjoyed the feeling, so when Remus kissed him, he willingly opened his mouth—tasting a mixture of Remus and his own blood.

He was lost—forever.

FIN 2/1/03


End file.
